


Reverse Psychology

by carrowmetohell



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: The Animated Series, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Arkham Asylum, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Rogues Gallery, Slow descent into madness and love, slow burner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrowmetohell/pseuds/carrowmetohell
Summary: "Dr. Harleen Quinzel! We meet at last. Welcome to Arkham Asylum. You're a most promising candidate and we are excited to be working with you. We hope your internship with us meets all your expectations.""Oh I'm certain it will Dr. Arkham. Thank you." A story of Harleen Quinzel's seduction into a life of crime. Progressive story showing how The Joker managed to turn the tables.





	1. Waiting game

Today everything was going to change. It was the day that Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been waiting so eagerly for. A day that would not only define her career, but her efforts in life thus far. She had a chance to prove that it hadn't all just been a horrible mistake, that all those who had dared to doubt and mock her were wrong. It would prove she was capable, intelligent and worth so much more than she'd been told in the past. She needed that.

Harleen was finally going to meet the Joker in session. The man with the biggest reputation out of all the residents at Arkham was to be one of her own patients. That was if you could even consider him to be a man. The Joker had evolved into more of a symbol of late, his actions scarring Gotham's residents for generations to come. If she was able to make progress with him, she could single handedly restore Gotham's confidence in Arkham. She could help people to feel safe again. Yet, as she gained the opportunity to prove herself as a proficient psychiatrist once and for all, she didn't feel ready. Her degree, her dissertation, her months of internships and study; everything she'd ever worked for had led up to this pinnacle make or break moment in her career and it terrified her. What if all her work had been for nothing? What if her doubters were correct? What would she do then? She couldn't go back to being Harleen Quinzel. She just couldn't. The young doctor suddenly felt the weight of every decision she'd ever made bearing down on her shoulders. Dr. Quinzel felt dizzy. That couldn't be a good sign.

Harleen shook her head vigorously in an attempt to shake her doubts away, struggling to maintain her usual professional confidence. This opportunity really had her on edge but who could blame her? The Joker was dangerous. I can do this. Harleen thought desperately, she just hoped it was true. Doubt continued to worm its way into her mind, its creeping sickness toying with her thoughts. It wasn't the first time self-doubt had grounded her. Her mind flashed back to the fall that crippled her gymnastics career. If she'd trusted herself she would never have fell. She would have still been competing today instead of hiding, scared witless in her tiny office. Shaky hands brought a steaming coffee to red lips. Perhaps more coffee would help. The young doctor tried to convince herself it was the caffeine making her shake. This was after all her third cup that morning. Regardless the excuse felt hollow.

Harleen had spent the past seven months' painstakingly proving herself to the other Doctors. Only to choke now that her moment to shine was within her grasp. What the hell is wrong with you Harl? Come on. Pull yourself together. She urged silently, blowing the coffee in a vain attempt to cool it. You got this chick. Harleen imnodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. That was much better, she just had to give herself a moment. Everyone got nervous now and again, this was exactly that. The justifications came rolling forward as she thumbed over her new patients file. The name read 'unknown' with 'Jack Napier' scrawled in pencil above the typed script. "Who are you Jack?" She asked, sipping at her coffee once more. "Will you let me find out?" Her afterthought was a whisper. She was desperate to make a breakthrough with him. No one would dare to doubt her again if she succeeded. She had to make that happen.

Harleen turned the cover page, wincing slightly at the photo included with the file. The Joker's last assigned doctor had met a grisly fate at his bleached hands. The memory of the blood stained room Dr. Wilson and the Joker had held their last session in was fresh in her mind. So were the tortured screams of the poor late doctor. He had been a good man but a stubborn doctor. The Joker hadn't appreciated his incessant line of questioning and had made his complaint clear with Dr. Wilson's mutilated body. On the walls he'd written his laughter in blood. That and a name, Jack Napier. A police search had drawn a blank on that lead. No one knew why the Joker had written it.

Nonetheless, Harleen really did not need a photo to remind her of the gruesome details but her boss had insisted on including it with the patient file. Dr. Joan Leland had wanted to remind her that her new patient was no normal Arkham resident, that was if you could call any of them truly 'normal' patients. There was something about Gotham that turned people sick. Something raw that lurked in the street shadows and preyed on the weak and vulnerable. This city ate its inhabitants alive, those that survived did not do so unscathed

Dr. Wilson's demise hadn't exactly been a shock to the department, but it left Harleen feeling as green as she ever had. She knew his death was the primary reason she got this position. Harleen had been the only practising psychiatrist available to fill the Joker's usual appointment slot and she was one of the lucky doctors not overburdened with patients due to her intern status. Now she just had to prove she deserved the chance. Wilson wasn't the first to fall victim to the Joker in session and Harleen couldn't kick the fear that he would not be the last. She couldn't let herself become another but the odds were stacked against her. Between escapes, murders and traumatising his psychologists no doctor had ever survived with the Joker for a period longer than three months. Come hell or high water this would be her perfect 10.

Harleen had asked upon arrival to Arkham why the volatile and dangerous patients like him were still treated in one on one counselling sessions when they clearly endangered the staff. She was handed a thick protocol file stamped with the Wayne enterprise logo in response. It appeared the life of Arkham's employees meant very little when pitted against the funding they received from Gotham's resident playboy and apparent philanthropist. She wondered what the pretty boy Bruce Wayne thought about what happened in the asylum, dismissing the thought almost immediately. She suspected Arkham never crossed his mind.

Harleen lent against her desk, coffee cup still held in her grip. She tucked a rogue strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she waited for Leland to come and collect her. The Joker must have been let out of solitary confinement around an hour ago, a quick check of her wrist watch confirmed that, which meant her session with him would be soon. Harleen released a shaky breath, shutting her eyes for a moment when Leland knocked on her door and entered. Harleen jumped, slamming the coffee cup down on her desk so as not to spill it. "Joan, ah! You startled me." She blurted out, spinning to face her boss with a weak smile.

Joan held the door and frowned, clearly disconcerted by young doctor's reaction. If she had been startled so easily now, what on earth would she be like in the Joker's company? Joan pursed her lips before speaking, examining Harleen with a penetrating gaze. "If we need to reschedule your appointment with the Joker today then we can. We can always wait until I find someone that's a bit more... experienced at this sort of thing."

Harleen shook her head before speaking. "I-no! I'll be fine. I'm ready for this." I am ready for this. She repeated silently in a firm tone. She wasn't just trying to convince her boss that she could do this. Harleen beamed at Joan, her smile wide and convincing. "I was just getting into the zone before I meet him. I want to be as prepared as possible."

"I well… Look Harleen, for your own safety you need to understand that you cannot really prepare for whatever is wrong with him. He's different." Joan offered the young intern the best advice she thought she could. A gentle reminder of the truth never hurt.

"This session is for introductory purposes and to reacquaint the Joker with his old schedule after his 'stint' in solitary." Leland sighed deeply, Dr. Wilson had been a dear friend of hers and his loss had hurt her. Even after all these years of trying not to get close to her staff she had failed. Joan knew it always ended the same way when the Joker was involved. He was toxic. For the resident clown he had a rather twisted sense of humour. "It's supposed to make a patients transition back into the main wing of Arkham less turbulent." Joan continued albeit a little tersely. Harleen noted Leland didn't believe a word she was saying, the woman was usually so strong and professional. But standing there in her office doorway, Leland looked tired. Harleen had never seen her look this way before.

Joan Leland led her to the high security session room, briefing Arkham's intern about all the safety precautions one last time. Dr. Leland's words blurred together, Harleen simply couldn't focus on them. Not that it really mattered, Harleen already had all the rules memorised. Dr. Arkham and Dr. Leland had already made her complete numerous tests regarding the health and safety protocols of a session with the Joker. As well as subjecting her to numerous tests, forms and risk assessments. It had all been rather extensive preparation process, yet still she feared it might not quite be enough.

Joan took the panic button out of her lab coat pocket and held it out for Harleen to take. "If you need us. Call. If you feel threatened. Call. If he does anything that you don't feel is appropriate or that you don't trust. Call." Dr. Leland narrowed her eyes at Harleen, who didn't quite seem to be paying attention anymore. "Harleen are you listening to me?" She demanded, pursing her lips when Harleen still did not take the device.

"Y-yes Dr. Leland. Yes I am." She took the panic button from her superior, examining it for a moment before placing it in her lab coat pocket. "Sorry, I am listening. I realise how much you're all trusting me with this session. I will call the moment I feel threatened or uneasy. I promise."

Dr. Leland winced slightly. She could see it plain as day, Harleen was too young, too fresh and most of all too eager to be dealing with a patient like the Joker. She had tried to get someone else assigned to his case to little avail. "Harleen, just be careful… Please."

The young blonde smiled, a genuinely warm smile gracing her lips. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She exclaimed, passing Joan her half empty cup of coffee. "No liquids. Especially not tepid ones!" She added in jest, recalling the regulations manual. Joan offered her a weak smile, before turning to leave. "I'll see you in my office for the debrief Dr. Quinzel." Joan paused in her departure, as if contemplating her next words. "Good luck in there."

Harleen nodded curtly in response, turning on her heel and opening the door to the session room. Scurrying in, she made sure to place the Joker's files in the allocated space on her side of the table. She clipped them into place using the magnetised strip, activated only by the staff ID cards. Then she posted the ID card in the clear box by the exit door. "Step one." She murmured recalling her protocol files as she glanced around the room. It was a lack lustre grey concrete, not exactly the healing environment she'd been taught about in University. This room looked like it was better suited for an interrogation. It put her on edge. She wondered how it made the patients feel. Harleen, hugged her arms close to her chest, heading back to the steel table. She took her seat gingerly, anxiously crossing her legs. At least the furniture was bolted to the ground, she noted, that meant it wouldn't be flying around anywhere during the session. That was reassuring at least.

A moment passed and she waited, about to check her watch when the door handle wrenched downwards. Harleen felt her stomach lurch. It was finally time. The Joker was here.


	2. First impressions

Harleen was captivated by the door handle. Her fixation slowing time down to an uncomfortable crawl. The moment the handle started to turn, her senses heightened as adrenalin washed through her system. Suddenly she realised that the anxious lump resting in her stomach was not simply a result of her desire to prove herself. She was terrified.

Harleen’s new duty was no mere patient. The moment he entered the room she would be at risk. He was a psychotic killer that thrived on discord and turbulence. The Joker saw humour in chaos that made most men’s blood curdle. He was a being without equal, well except for maybe one that prowled the dark streets of Gotham in a cape and a cowl… 

When door finally opened, she held her breath. Two guards dressed in the pale Arkham blue uniform brought forth a smiling man. He hung limp between them, a smile etched onto his face. The Joker dragged his feet as the men brought him over to the desk she sat at. They dumped him in the chair, securing his wrists and ankles to the metal chair opposite her with leather straps. 

Harleen barely noticed; she was transfixed by him. The Joker appeared to be sedated, his body moving with a drug addled haze, but his eyes were alert. She’d never seen someone carry quite this level of intensity in their being before. Something changed in that moment and she wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

“Doc?” One of the guards asked, snapping her back into the room. Harleen noticed the other was already in the doorway, impatient to leave.

“Sorry?” She responded, blushing deep red. Had he asked her a question? She couldn’t be sure.

“Are you alright alone with him? We can wait inside if it’d make you more comfortable.” The guard repeated his question once more, voice quiet and soft. He must be new. None of the guards were quite so caring after a month at Arkham.

“I-“ Harleen started. It made sense. Two guards inside meant she stood a much greater chance of surviving this but it could jeopardise the session. What to do? She only had a moment to decide.  
Fortunately, the Joker had twitched as she spoke, cocking his head up but still not quite meeting her eyes. His behaviour suggested that this was her first test and one she really did not want to fail. With that her mind was made.

She turned to the guard and offered him a warm smile. “We shall be alright alone. I’ll call if I need you.” The young doctor gave him a knowing look, the panic button was safe inside her jacket pocket and he knew that too. Harleen didn’t want to have to use it but she was ready to. The guard nodded at her but he didn’t seem all too satisfied. He glanced at the Joker, mistrust colouring his eyes as he turned to leave, hesitant before he joined his partner outside the room.

The door shut behind him and the room seemed to drop in temperature. Harleen’s eyes flicked up to the security camera above them which was trained on their table. The red light was on, showing it was recording live. Harleen could imagine Dr. Leland and Dr. Arkham huddled over a laptop playing the rooms security footage. She had to make this count.

“I’m Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” She said at last, introducing herself with confidence. She felt a little stronger now that she figured the hardest part was over. The Joker was there sitting in silence. Staring blankly ahead. He sat like a sentry, unmoving and catatonic. It was a stark change from mere moments ago, when he moved his head at her voice. 

Now it was as if she wasn’t even there.

For a moment Harleen felt aggrieved. She snapped herself out of it quickly, realising who exactly it was sitting opposite her. This was no normal patient and she couldn’t allow herself to make the mistake of treating him like one.

Dr. Quinzell took his unnerving silence as an opportunity to take in his appearance. Harleen had seen the photos but the reality of his mutilation was something else. His cheeks had been crudely sliced upward in a permanent grotesque smile. Pink, scarred flesh against the palest of whites. His skin was unnaturally pale. The man before her looked as though he had not seen the sun for months. In stark contrast she noticed his eyes were a piercing green. Harleen was struck with a sudden desire to know everything about him.

The Joker moved suddenly and Harleen flinched backwards. His sudden movement starling her. He straightened with fluid precision before directing his entire focus at her. The Joker drew his eyes up to meet hers, her gaze unyielding.

An ocean crashed down upon her before the walls and ceiling seemed to dart outwards for eternity. The room became a cavern, an endless space with just the two of them at its centre.

“Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” The Joker purred, voicing her name aloud. A twinkle graced his gaze and she was intoxicated by him. What was happening to her?

Harleen hadn’t been sure entirely what she had expected from him, but it hadn’t been this. After watching his previous session tapes, she had expected him to remain silent. His voice rocked her. But that tone, that look. Just who was he? She felt another blush creep along her cheeks. Harleen hoped the tell-tale red colour of embarrassment hadn’t betrayed her. 

“Yes.” She agreed neutrally, finally settling on her response. “That’s me. Now what would you like me to call you?” She asked attempting to steer conversation forward. 

“Easy Doc…” The Joker flashed her a toothy smile. He looked like a cat ready to pounce. Harleen knew his name was a sore spot for him. Now she wanted to know why.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable in our sessions.” 

“Oh, my discomfort concerns you?” The Joker asked incredulously, rattling his chains.

“Discomfort I can control.” She clarified, careful not to offend him.

The Joker paused, as if mulling over his response. “You’ve not earned my name.” 

Harleen nodded. She’d expected as much but it had been worth a shot. “Alright, well we can work on that then.”

The Joker continued to stare at her unmoving. In that moment, she realised that unless she played her cards right he would eat her alive. She was destined for more than that. She could feel it in him, in herself, in the electricity that occupied the room the moment he had stepped inside it. She was the right person for this job. She knew it now.

“I’m sure you’ve had this spiel before, but I’ll just get right into it. As you know this is our introductory session. It’s not going to be as long as our others will be but it’ll be enough to get to know how things will be working from here on. We’re scheduled to have two sessions a week, with any additional sessions granted should there be any incidents.”

He cocked a brow before slapping his knee and bursting into laughter. “Should there be! Oh Doc, you crack me up.” Two minutes passed before he settled into a mild chuckle. Despite her new-found confidence Harleen knew well not to interrupt his laughter. 

She smiled before continuing, hoping to show him that his laughter hadn’t put her off. She wanted him to feel like this room was as much his space as it was hers. “We both know you’ve had a few Doctors since you’ve been here, and we want things to return to normal. To get you settled into a proper schedule.”

“We?” He queried, locking her gaze once more. Harleen felt exposed under it.

“Dr. Arkham, Dr. Leland, me. And well hopefully you.” She matched his gaze, hoping to see response to her answer but The Joker gave none. Instead he changed the topic, picking at another word in her sentence. Harleen wanted to remember to note this down.

The Joker changed position before speaking. “Normal.” He rolled the word around in his mouth as if it tasted foul. “Normal.” He repeated, his tone sharp and edged. “Nooooormal…”  


Harleen sensed his anger, the complete shift in his energy. Thinking quickly, she attempted to appease him, “we just want things to return to your old schedule is all.” She hoped that would be enough. The man opposite her visibly relaxed and Harleen breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d get somewhere with him after all. 

Or maybe that was just what he wanted her to think.

All to soon Harleen’s watch bleeped signifying the end of their session. “That’s our time up.” She murmured before clearing her throat and repeating herself clearly. “I look forward to our next session.” Harleen stood up before smoothing her lab coat down.

“Pleasure.” The Joker called after her. The word sent chills down her spine. Harleen exited the room, fully aware of her new patient’s eyes on her back.


	3. Anything to declare?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little longer than I intended it to take! Also a bit more slow burny than I intended. Rest of the chapters should delve into the meat of their sessions.

“Dr Quinzel,” Jeremiah Arkham began, gesturing for Harleen to sit in one of the two leather arm chairs opposite his desk. “How was your first session with the Joker?” His tone was listless much like the man himself. She could tell Dr. Arkham cared very little for her answer, he was just going over standard procedure. Just as he had been when he’d conducted her psyche evaluation. Despite this he peered over his glasses at her, his dull eyes boring into her own.

Joan Leland was stood behind him, pretending to be more interested in whatever lay outside his office window than the goings on within the office itself. However, Harleen could tell that Joan was more invested in her answer than their boss was. She wanted to know every little micro detail.

Harleen wasn’t sure why Joan was playing this game. She’d made a point before her session with the Joker to tell her to be careful. The sudden shift in behaviour was strange. 

Harleen wrung her hands almost guiltily. She felt awkward. Almost as if she was back in her principal’s office after getting in trouble. Harleen couldn’t shake the feeling she had done something wrong, or that she was about to.

“Well the session was rather brief.” She began honestly. “I don’t think it was enough time to properly gauge our relationship. Though I think it will take a few more sessions than just one to determine that as it does with every patient.” Harleen paused, watching the two share a look. Once again, she was painfully aware that they had watched the entire session between herself and the Joker. This hot and cold attitude from the two senior doctors was starting to irritate the young blonde. 

Joan’s lips twitched, she moved as if she was about to speak but Harleen beat her to it. “I think we established a connection.” Harleen stated, “he’s at least intrigued to see where the next few sessions take us and that’s not behaviour I’ve particularly observed from him in past sessions.”

“I’m not sure that’s healthy behaviour Harleen, I-” Joan began only to be silenced with a glare from Dr. Arkham. 

Harleen didn't wish to lose the Joker now that she had finally got her hands on him as her patient. The Joker’s strange and peculiar behaviour was excellent for her career. Men like him made people in her field. From an academic point of view, she’d struck gold. However, most academics studied danger from afar. Here she wasn’t tucked safely behind her laptop amidst the library shelves and a few empty coffee cups. This was real life and her patient was dangerous. The realisation both scared and excited her. Still, she wanted Joan to get off her back. Luckily for her, so did Jeremiah. 

Jeremiah pursed his lips and waited for Joan to return to the window before breaking the heavy silence that had consumed the office. “I think that is something we have to explore if we ever intend on treating him. The Joker comes to Arkham and not Blackgate for a reason. We should respect that and uphold our aims.”

“How many of your employees need to die before you realise that the Joker cannot be reasoned with or fixed?” Joan blurted out, her eyes flashing with anger. She’d stood up as she spoke. Unable to contain herself. “Or is this sudden desire to help him because Warden Sharp’s on his way to check up on us?”

“Dr Leland!” Arkham snapped, displeased with her outburst. “I think your return to work was premature. You’ve criticised Dr Quinzel hypocritically. You think she’s taken on work beyond her capabilities too soon when in fact you’ve returned to the job far before you’ve been able to grieve the passing of Dr Wilson.”

“He was murdered.” Joan hissed in response. Harleen shrank into her chair, wishing for nothing more than this meeting to be over. 

“Joan.” Dr Arkham continued, using her first name sharply. “I think you need more time off. I think you need to spend some time with your family and allow yourself some time to grieve. You have to remember that our patients are sick. Their intentions aren’t always as clear cut as we’d like them to be.”

The words Dr. Arkham spoke made sense. They were an institution of rehabilitation. Arkham was here to help people and the Asylum was in his blood. Of course he’d defend the patients and his work. Yet something inside told Harleen the Joker had something over on him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what that might be. 

Suddenly, Jeremiah rounded on her. “You will continue with the Joker in session tomorrow. You’ll have a forty-five minute session and you’ll report back to my office again once you are finished. Joan will no longer be mentoring you, instead Dr. Penelope Young will be relieving her of that duty until she returns. You’re both dismissed.”

♦♦♦

“Jeez, he’s all business, isn’t he?” Harleen whispered once the heavy oak door to his office was sealed.

Joan waited until they were further down the corridor before replying with a biting tone. “This isn’t a joke _Harleen_. This is your life you’re playing with here. I hope you respect what’s at stake.” 

“I guess you’re just all business too.” The response seemed childish but Harleen spoke before she had thought but her colleague did not seem to mind. Instead Joan offered her an apologetic smile and gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Perhaps I do just need a little time off." She sighed, looking as though a weight had been taken off her shoulders. "Take care of yourself Dr. Quinzel.”

Harleen nodded in response. "You too Joan, I really hope you find some time to relax." With that Joan turned away, ready to head to her own office and pack up for the week. At least she hoped she'd only be gone for the week. The longer Joan spent at home, the harder she found it to return.

"Oh need a lift home or anything?” Harleen offered, "least I can do."

“No thank you, I’ll be fine.” Joan hoped she sounded convincing.

♦♦♦

Harleen returned to her office, checking her watch on the way in. She had an hour before she was off the clock. That was plenty of time to type up her reports and finish her emails for the day. Or it would have been if her world had not been turned upside down the moment she laid eyes on the crimson rose atop her desk.

Harleen froze, her muscles tense and ready to fight. She’d been warned about patients escaping their cells and she’d been warned about patients sneaking into Doctor’s offices and lying in wait for their return.

Someone had been in her office and she was suddenly aware that her desk was large enough to hide a fully-grown man beneath it without her even seeing them from the door. The young doctor reached for the panic button in her lab coat; praying that she wouldn’t have to use it.

“Hello?” She called out, tentatively. Approaching the desk from a distance. Once she realised no one was lurking there. She let out a ragged breath and shuddered. The days events really had her wound up tight. 

Shaking her head Harleen barked out a laugh that felt all too freeing. She really hoped no one had heard that. Composing herself, the blonde smoothed down her shirt before picking the rose up.

She turned it over and read the note.

_Until next time – J_


	4. Kiss from a rose

Harleen found herself stood outside of _his_ cell without being conscious of what she was doing. Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t even aware of making the decision to storm over to him. Wait. Who in their right mind stormed over to the Joker? Nothing good could come from this. _Harley you better know what you’re doing girl._

It was obvious she didn’t. The Joker’s cell was in the west wing and her office in the south. She couldn’t even remember walking over here. Not only were at least 3 separate key card access check points she had to pass but a compulsory armed guard pat down. That meant a conversation and a search, yet she couldn’t recall any of it. Harleen felt like drift wood. She'd just ended up here with no effort, just letting the tides carry her aimlessly. Except this was nothing but aimless. It was deliberate and dangerous.

Oh but it really wasn’t like her to zone out like this. Harley frowned as she felt fear clawing at her stomach. What in hell was going on?

“Couldn’t wait till tomorrow toots?” The Joker chirped, his acrid voice jolting her back to reality. He was lying on his prison cot, head lolling off the edge in her direction. It was almost as if he expected this. And my, oh my! Her expression was just delicious. He could eat that uncertainty, written across her face, any day of the week.

Harleen pushed her glasses up her nose, narrowing her eyes at him and cooling her expression. She couldn't give him an inch. She knew he'd take a mile. That was it, she had to do something to take back control. Suddenly, she slammed the crimson rose into the glass front of his cell in response.

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” He mocked, rolling off the bed onto the floor. He landed with a thump causing Harleen to frown. She realised he was trying to distract her. Possibly even make her laugh. The action was so slap-stick and characteristic of his clownish antics. But why would he want to make her laugh? The whole situation was farcical enough as it was. Yet she couldn't deny that something stirred deep within her. Pushing it back, she continued to glare at him.

Dr. Quinzel held the rose in place, thorns digging into her palm, but she barely noticed. Pressing forward with her enquiry she continued, “do you care to tell me how this got in my office?”

“I put it there.” He replied as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was condescending and Harleen decided she didn’t like it. Just exactly who did he think he was to think she was stupid? 

Small pin pricks of blood seeped onto the glass of his cell. The Joker inadvertently licked his lips. She’d pay for that. He did nothing without intention and yet here she had him acting on impulse like a simpering idiot. Breaking her was going to be delectable. Still, he had to keep up the act to lead her down the path he had planned for her. He couldn't get complacent now. That was sloppy and the Joker was anything but sloppy. He never missed a punchline and this time; she was it.

“I think Dr. Arkham and the guards would be interested to know you’ve been out of your cell.” Harleen shot back, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips. The rose fell to the floor and her perforated palm stained her white coat. She noticed neither, but he did.

Harleen’s threat was empty but she hoped he’d fall for her bluff. She knew if she informed any of the guards or her superiors that she would lose him as her patient. And for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she couldn’t. The only thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want to lose him. She had a chance with him. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, she could feel it. 

_Why do you never listen Harley?_ The foggy words resounded in her mind, but the voice was not her own. It sounded more like her mother. Harleen’s throat was suddenly dry, her baby blues marginally wider than they had been. She hadn’t heard her mother’s voice in so long. The difference in her expression was enough for the Joker to notice. He was far more perceptive than he let on.

“If you were going to tell them, you already would have.” He stated confidently, tongue lolling haphazardly out of his mouth. Harley wasn’t sure if he was trying to be cute or not. It seemed like rather odd behaviour, even for him. 

“See, I know you had that panic button in your pocket today. You had it in our first session. Short though, wasn’t it?” He reiterated the thoughts she had shared with Dr. Arkham and Dr. Leland mere hours ago. Had he been listening? A bottle green fly on the wall she hadn't noticed? No. That was impossible. So instead Harleen found herself wondering if he really felt that way. Not that it mattered if he did…

The Joker continued, his audience captive- no; captivated. “Back when I played with Dr. Cox I used to bet with Two-Face just how long it would be before I could make him press his button.” The Joker laughed and Harleen flinched. His laugh was so loud anyone could have heard it. She really did not want to be caught here. 

“Get it? I pressed his buttons and he pressed his.” The Joker doubled over once more and Harleen smiled awkwardly. 

“Wicked sense of humour you have there.” She commented, and he grinned. That’s my girl. He thought cockily. Soon he’d be able to say that aloud to her and she’d drink it up. He could just tell she was the perfect person for what he had in mind. 

“So,” he rose to his full height dramatically, pacing around his cell as if emulating Poirot or Jessica Fletcher before they reached their final conclusion. “I know you had the panic button in your office. Hell  
I bet it’s on you now.” His eyes darkened with the unspoken challenge.

Suddenly the panic device was in her hand. She wasn’t holding it to press the button-no- she was presenting it to him. Confirming his statement. Showing him he was right. “I-“ She stuttered, speechless and shocked. What was she doing?

“Edward Nygma eat your heart out.” He drawled, laughter echoing through his words. “Point is. I know you’re not going to press it and I know you're not going to tattle. I hate a tattler.” The Jokers piercing green eyes darkened for a moment. He was deadly serious. The gravity of his statement threatened to overwhelm her.

Harleen’s hand shook, her thumb twitched. She knew she should press it. She shouldn’t be staring into his eyes like she was but something within her made the blonde think he was saying all this for a reason. If he wanted her dead, she’d be dead. He wanted more from her and she was captivated-uh-curious. Professionally curious.

“Your name, Harleen Quinzel,” he added, using her uncertainty as a chance to change the subject. “It makes Harley Quinn-” 

“Ah yes, the jester and embodiment of fun.” She replied, “I know.” She added dismissively. Oh, he didn’t like that, but she didn’t notice the subtle change in his body language. Ever the opportunist, he morphed it into nervous anticipation.

“It used to be my stage name when I did gymnastics.” She continued undeterred. His act had worked. 

“I’ve heard about every joke about my name that you could imagine.” Her accent crept in thicker than it ever had. What he said next, she hadn’t expected.

His smile widened, illustrating the scars on his cheeks. “Oh, my dear you mistake me.” The Joker was standing opposite her now, palms pressed to his chest in feigned penance. “I don’t want to mock you.” It didn’t seem feigned to her.

 _Shit._ She thought, her heart folding in on itself.

“I just wanted to say it’s a name that brings a smile to my face.” His smile this time was genuine.

Harleen backed away from him. The Joker smiling never meant anything good. She turned on her heel to scurry back to her office. Maybe she could request a transfer immediately. No one really expected her to stay with the Joker after all. She’d still keep her job at Arkham so it wasn’t really defeat if she was being sensible. Was it? Why did it feel like it was?

“It makes me feel like I can relate to someone in here… Like I can talk to someone at last. Maybe even share some of my secrets...” His voice was feeble and wounded. He was opening up to her and she’d panicked. 

_Stupid, stupid girl!_ Her mothers voice reverberated around her skull once more.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow then... J” Her voice didn’t sound like it belonged to her. 

“See you tomorrow Harley-girl.” His did.


	5. Fear itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guest stars Aaron Cash and Jonathan Crane!

_Harley-girl._

The Joker’s voice ricocheted around Harleen’s mind like a bullet fired in a metal room.

_Oh Harley-girrrrl._

**BANG. BANG. BANG.**

The sound crashed through her mind every time he spoke, his yellowed teeth crashing against each other with every word. Chains rustled, and metal groaned. His lips cracked.

Harleen woke from her fitful sleep breathlessly. Wanting him as her patient had been a mistake. Her realisation was resolute and with a clarity that didn’t often register so soon after waking. He was under her skin and she’d let him get there after one session. One.

He was good. She’d give him that.

Arkham was a challenging place to work. She always knew it would be and she knew every psychiatrist had their Achilles’ tendon of a patient. Perhaps the clown was hers. There were worse people to be affected by. Arkham housed a lot of D-list super villain patients. Or at least that’s what Vikki Vale and Jack Ryder claimed. So at least her distress was at the hands of the Joker and not someone like Firefly or Killer Moth. That would just. be embrassing. 

Nevertheless, she had to get out.

Harleen had given up in her life before and the memory still lived within her like a black stain. Regret and resentment tangible entities that had consumed her at one time in her life. The thought of losing the clown prince of crime triggered that familiar caustic taste in her mouth. Could she really endure reliving that?

Could she miss the opportunity to not hear his secrets? The Jokers voice resounded in her mind once more, promising her conversation and secrets, luring her back into the interview room with him for another session. If she cracked the Joker, even if she just got him to open up a little, she would be made for life. Could Harleen really just let that opportunity slip her by? Fat. Chance. 

No. 

Her pale hands reached out clumsily for the mobile phone on her bedside table. She had to tell Joan about the rose now. Before she argued herself into keeping him.

Harleen knocked over the glass of water she’d placed there, “shit.” She hissed, lunging for the cup in a futile attempt to catch it. Instead she knocked her head on the sharp corner of the table. A shooting pain burst across her forehead. Cursing again she rolled back over into bed. “God dammit Harl.” She groaned through gritted teeth.

Ignoring the spilled water, she clicked her phone on. The screen blared to life, the bright light blinding her for a moment. Squinting she made out the time.

03:09am. 

Ok maybe she couldn’t text Joan right now. That conversation would have to wait until morning. Grumbling she dumped the phone back on the table, wondering if there was much point in trying to fall back asleep. Her heart was still pounding and her breath ragged. She felt more awake now than she had after her coffee the morning before.

The young doctor headed into her bathroom, took a couple of sleeping pills and set another alarm for herself in the morning. If she couldn’t sleep naturally she’d force it. This was something Harleen could control this.

Harleen didn’t wake up for her alarm. Nor did she wake up for the second. In fact, she snoozed through irritating siren a whole four times before she leapt out of bed in a panic and threw on her clothes. She’d never make it through Gotham rush hour to Arkham on time. 

At times like this she hated how far the institution was from the city. For the most part, like every other Gothamite, she appreciated the distance because of the meagre protection it offered them. At least when there was a riot or breakout at Arkham the remoteness provided a buffer zone before it spilt into the city. That and it was a manageable area for the bat to patrol with his black cowl and iron fist.

Dr. Quinzel stepped on the gas, willing the traffic lights in her path to turn green. Though she wasn’t usually an aggressive or pushy driver, she couldn’t stand being late. 

Harleen was not usually one for road rage. She just didn’t see the point in steaming within her car, stuck in a line of traffic spewing vitriol at other drivers that were nothing but a passing interaction in her life. But, when a car cut her up at the roundabout to Westward Bridge causing her to smear her lipstick across her cheek she forgot that entirely.

Harleen wrenched her steering wheel to the left and slammed on her breaks. “Fuck!” She screeched, slamming the wheel. She hit the wheel with her palms again before revving up aggressively and chasing the offending car down. She blared her horn at them a little too long before continuing her journey as though nothing had happened. Her erratic behaviour had surprised her. She decided to ignore it and concentrate on cleaning her face and getting to work as soon as possible. Everyone had their moments, right?

Running late, Harleen burst through the front door of Arkham. Her necktie was askew, and her white shirt rumpled and unironed. The blonde over-achiever didn’t quite look like the put together professional young woman she had carefully sculpted over the past few years of her career. At least the lipstick was gone.

She just hoped she wouldn’t be late for her first appointment as she signed in at the reception desk. Her signature more of a scrawl, as opposed to the perfected autograph that she’d perfected in secondary school, as she rushed.

“Do you know where Dr. Leland is?” Harleen asked the receptionist urgently. She did not have much time to get her appointment switched and she wanted to sort it immediately. The receptionist looked at her blankly. “Joan Leland?” Harleen affirmed. 

The receptionist rolled her seat back slightly, chewing her gum a little too loudly. “Joan was put on leave yesterday. I thought you’d know.”

The colour drained from Harleen’s face. How could she have forgotten? She had been there the moment Jeremiah Arkham had told Joan to take some time off. It was all because of Dr. Wilson. Was that who she was going to be next? Another Dr. Wilson.

Harleen didn’t feel like she could take this to Dr. Arkham and all she knew of her new mentor, Dr. Penelope Young, was that she was arrogant and dismissive. It looked like she might have to go through with the sessions after all. At least until Joan was back.

Harleen made a mental note to text Joan and ask her how she was. Maybe they could meet for a drink during her time off. Perhaps the older woman could still help keep her grounded. Keep her sane.

“Ah, of course. I’m such a ditz sometimes.” She chirped, laughter colouring her tone. The receptionist stared at her blankly again. It was then that Harleen noticed the magazine the woman had attempted to conceal beneath Arkham paperwork. The blonde sighed before turning on her heel and marching to her office. She had to collect her files before meeting her first patient in session. At least it might keep her distracted until she saw the Joker that afternoon.

Dr. Crane had been waiting in the room for ten minutes before she arrived. It wasn’t usual for the Arkham staff to keep their patients waiting. It often happened the other way around, but this was a rarity. Harleen apologised as she entered the room. The apology was genuine. She liked Crane; despite his actions.

He nodded in response, waiting for her to sit down and gather herself before he spoke. His eyes flicked up to her forehead which sported a purple bruise and a right-angle puncture. Had someone lay hands on his ~~student~~ -doctor?

Harleen noticed his gaze land on her forehead. Her hand absently reached for the spot and she winced once she found it. “Ow.” She murmured. She’d forgotten completely about banging her head in the night. She’d have to cover it once this session finished.

Crane didn’t ask about the wound. Instead he leaned across the table. His restraints kept him firmly held in place. Harleen knew she was safe and was undaunted by his advance.

“You ever been in a building you know is empty? I mean really, empty. Things creak, and the darkness moves.” Dr. Crane licked his chapped lips, his blue eyes wild. “You know you’re imagining it all, but your heart still skips a beat as your primeval survival instinct kicks in.” Harleen had felt it last night. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The question was, did he recognise that in her? 

Harleen peered over her thick black glasses at the gaunt man she used to admire. It was a shame he’d ended up here. His descent into madness never had sat quite right with her. She was just lucky she had never been one of his direct students. They were the first people that he’d tested his fear gas on. Some of them had been friends of hers.

“Why is this important to you Dr. Crane?” She asked in an even tone. Drawing her pen across her notepad.

Where was he going with this? She wondered. What exactly did he think he knew about her? Or was she just being incredibly paranoid? “What do you mean by that?”

“People mistakenly think we are special because we’re human. They’re wrong.” He emphasised his point by slamming the desk. Crane’s eyes flicked up to the camera monitoring them apologetically. He stilled in his seat, not wanting to end the session prematurely. “We’re no better than animals you see.” He bared his teeth. “We _are_ animals. Don’t forget that Dr. Quinzel.”

Harleen watched him closely, “do you think I forget that?”

Something in Crane’s eyes changed. “No. I think you know you’re an animal like the rest of us.” The shamed psychiatrist stretched his arms out as wide as his chains allowed him to, gesturing to Arkham itself. “Welcome to the mad house doctor, do try not to make yourself too at home.”

Harleen bristled. She had been Dr. Crane’s psychiatrist for one special session every month. She was not his permanent doctor, but she was a part of his programmed therapy. Dr. Leland had hoped she might remind him of everything he used to have, of everything he used to fight for. Harleen had managed to make some progress with him and so their sessions had continued. This was their 8th session to date.

“I know we met a few times when I was a student, but I think you presume to know more about me than you do.” Harleen’s tone was strict. She’d already made mistakes with the Joker. She didn’t intend to lose her professional quality with another patient. 

“I think you presume to know more about me than you do if you still think I’m the same man I was then.” He retorted, lips pursing as though he was disappointed with her.

_Touché._

The question escaped her painted lips before she had the chance to consider her words. “Why do you think I’d make myself at home here?” 

Crane smirked. “Is it not obvious?”

Harleen folded her arms, “no.” She stated defensively. 

Jonathan tutted. She felt like she was in his guest lecture again. Her notepad wasn’t a record of their session, but the notebook she kept in her student days. He had made so many valid points back then. Now he was just confusing her, and she didn’t know what to write.

He relaxed into his chair, his gaze lazily finding her. “You belong here.”

Harleen scoffed, “if you’re trying to identify my darkest fear here Jonathan, you’ve failed.” She threw his modus operandi on the table. Hoping that was what he was reaching for. Jonathan had a nasty talent for identifying a person’s weakness and exploiting it. And that was without his fear gas.

His smirk widened, “oh I have? Are you certain about that _Harley?_ ” 

Harleen stood up, eyes darkening. “That concludes our session Johnathan. Sargent Cash!” She called. The officer stormed in, hand on his holster. His eyes locked on Crane but flashed over to the doctor once he realised he was calm. 

“He needs a time out.” She said coolly, gathering her things before she stood up. “Put him in segregation.”

“Doctor,” Crane pleaded, appealing to her sensibilities. Harleen just gave him a hard stare.

Aaron Cash nodded, if she said he did he must. He was just here to follow orders and the doctors knew best. Yet he saw something in Quinzel’s eyes he hadn’t seen before that made him question it. It must have been nothing. She was sweet and kind. Hell, she’d had lunch with him at least once every week during her residency. She was one of the good ones. Yeah. She was.

“Crane you’re with me.” Aaron commanded, heading over to him.

She said nothing, just watched Crane stand. His blue eyes pierced her own and she felt a second of guilt. It didn’t matter. She had bigger fish to fry.


	6. Red Shoes

The Joker was waiting for her in the session room. It was the second time today Harleen had walked into the room and found it occupied. With Crane, she had messed up and was late but right now? No - this wasn’t on her. She had made certain to get here early. Harleen hated being late at the best of times and the Joker wasn’t exactly known for his patience… So, how could he be here with the guards posted outside? Something just didn’t feel right.

Harleen checked her watch to make sure she wasn’t going completely mad and realised that she was in fact, a whole ten minutes early. How the hell had Joker got away with this? Before she could ask him anything, he opened his scarred lips to speak.

“I heard where you put ol’ Scarecrow.” The Joker greeted her with an accusation. He waved a disapproving, pale white finger in her direction as if to scold her. Harleen didn’t like his attitude, nor the implication behind his words that he had a man on the inside. Someone was feeding the Joker information from within the Arkham staff ranks and not only that – they were moving him around the Asylum when he wasn’t supposed to be out of his cell. She needed to know who his little rat was and crush him.

_Wait, did I just think about crushing a man?_

__

__

Harleen blinked in an attempted to push out the thoughts but she couldn’t quite shake the satisfaction she felt at the very idea of it. 

_Jesus girl, what’s happening to you?_

It was the work stress, it had to be. It was this damn place. It was him. The Joker. God, she wondered why she’d ever even wanted him as a patient. He was mayhem and chaos personified. He had already toppled her world view and made her act quite unlike herself. It was all his fault… Right?

Harleen would never send a man to solitary just because she didn’t like what they had to say. The people here were sick, Jonathan Crane was sick, and she had a duty of care to keep! It had to be his fault.

_But Harley would._

She heard his voice in her mind and almost fell out of her chair. That, was weird.

“I know you didn’t send him to see the wonderful Wizard. No, no no no!” The Joker smiled, it was harsh and ugly. “Poor guys looking only for a new brain. Turns out his is all wired wrong.” The Joker leaned across the table, dragging a chained hand to his mouth. “I hear he’s crazy.” He whispered before falling back across the table into his chair in fits of cackles. If he had noticed her moment of discomfort he did well to pretend he hadn’t.

“I thought bats were more your thing.” Harleen replied smoothly, finally managing to compose herself. She slid into the seat opposite him and placed her paperwork down. The Joker cocked an inquisitive brow, obviously surprised. Her statement had caught him off guard.

The realisation made her lips curl up in a vindictive smile. She was going maintain this control. Harleen wasn’t going to let him continue with whatever game he was playing with her. The Joker’s eyes widened almost imperceptivity but Harleen Quinzel was trained to read body language. Again, she had surprised him, this time with her smile.

Was that pride in his expression? 

“Only way you could have heard what happened to Scarecrow is by talking to one of the rats scurrying around in our lovely Arkham blue.” Harleen explained, pushing her glasses up her nose. His orange polyester scrubs suddenly felt itchier than they had. “I always thought you were more batty than ratty.”

The fun was over now and the Jokers lip curled. He hadn’t liked that. Harleen’s finger twitched with the impulse to write his reaction down but she resisted the urge to move, instead taking the moment to watch him.

“Careful,” he warned, his green eyes flicked between her hand and her eyes. “Wouldn’t want me to stop enjoying this game of ours.”

“This isn’t supposed to be a game.” She replied, confidence in her position and abilities growing. 

“And yet it is,” the Joker replied matter of fact. It was clear he was trying to tilt the balance of power back in his favour. “Tell me Harley, do you like games?”

“It’s Dr. Quinzel.”

“I prefer Harley.” The Joker paused and sat up straight to meet her gaze, “it suits your smile.” His voice was lower, a soft baritone. Harleen almost faltered at that. The sentiment was sweet, and he delivered it in such a way that she found charming. She almost forgot herself, her anger melting away into a schoolgirls excitement at having her crush speak to her.

The Joker was as charming as he was terrifying it seemed. Or at least he was when he was with her. That could not be a good sign, but what was worse is that she kind of liked the attention. Harleen was flip flopping dangerously between admiration of him and pure hatred. 

Time to turn the tables back, Harleen decided to push him back with a question. “Who told you about Scare-Jonathan Crane?”

“You won’t use his mononym, but you use mine?” Infuriatingly he didn’t take the bait. Harleen shouldn’t have hesitated with his name.

“You never told me your name.” 

“I gave you something to call me by.”

“J.” She muttered, the memory of his hand-written note clear in her memory. She should really take it out of her wallet and put it in his file. Better yet, she should report it… Later maybe.

“Are you so informal with all the handsome devils we keep here?” His question brought her out of her thoughts.

“Mistah J?” Her Brooklyn accent slipped out and the Joker, despite himself, found he rather enjoyed the sound. 

“Call me that and I might just be more inclined to open up,” his smile was predatory, expanding as he revealed more of his teeth to her. He looked manic, deranged even but there was something else behind his expression. Something deep in his green eyes that drew Harleen in to him. 

She didn’t notice she was leaning across the table, closer to him than she should have been until there was a knock on the door to signify the end of the session. She jerked back and fell against the back of her chair, surprise etched onto her face.

“Just remember Dr Quinzel, there’s no place quite like home.” He stretched his arms out like his smile, gesturing to the room they were in. He was mirroring Scarecrow’s behaviour from her earlier session but how could he know?

“S-see you in our next session.” She replied in a shaking voice. Harleen gathered up her paperwork in a hurry before half jogging over to the door. Taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes, Harleen pushed the fear creeping up her spine and composed herself. She knocked on the door and the guard opened it, she heard the lock click out of place.

She’d been locked inside there with him!? When was that ever protocol… 

“You locked me in there?” She asked incredulously. “With him?” She added in an undertone.

“Quincy Sharp’s orders.”

“The new warden is here already?”

“Guess he’s more prompt than you are.”

The young doctor clenched her fists and slipped her paperwork over her arm. “Where is he?”

The guard shrugged and moved past her. “Look lady, we got the Joker to bring back to his cell. If you’re pissed why don’t you take it out on your boss.”

“Oh I intend to.”

Her heels echoed along the Arkham corridors as she stormed away. The Jokers laughter punctuating each step she took.

_Ha._

**Ha.**

**HA.**

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12281297/1/Reverse-Psychology


End file.
